I Chronicles of the Heroes I
It's one of the best games, if not the best already.
With a an astronomical number of NPCs and the ridiculously massive world building.
The most entertaining aspect of the game is the freedom given to players where they can almost do everything in the game. From helping some NPCs and trying to save the world, to literally obliterating every character in the game.
Another great method to make the players want to play more, the game's variety of weapons and classes. You can become a fierce warrior with a divine sword, or you can try finishing the game with a pan…
And today I, as one of the developers of this game, will be leaving the company to find another job.
" Mr. John, we appreciate your understanding and support so far for developing and helping our community "
Although it was sudden, I already had an inkling that this would happen at some point.
the owner of the company was actually my colleague in university. At the time, he was ambitious and excited about making this game, and I helped him as his friend from the same major.
We hit it of at the beginning, but I noticed how he was trying his best to be put in spotlight and hide my face from the community's fan base and shows. It was a little weird on his part, but I didn't care to be honest .
Mainly, I focused on real state throughout the years, and I confidently can say that now I can live comfortably without a job. Yet still, I will continue working and try my best to build my future house and find another decent women to marry.
" It kinda sucks that she went for him of all people "
My ex girlfriend just last week told me how we can't continue dating if I'm most of the time looking at real state.
" Hmm.. thinking about it now I might have been too stingy. "
I definitely have the luxury to buy an expensive sport car, but I never saw the value of doing that. It's either a waste of money or just a show off.
" Sighe.. women nowadays are too shallow "
The guy she went for already has the fame and always spoils himself so I can see why she preferred him over me, and I as his friend already know how much he actually make so he can still live like this till the end. However, what about the things that actually matter? Like a house and future financial stability? The kids won't have the same salary we make…
Anyway, I'm kinda salty about this whole thing…
" Losing my job is one thing but to also taking that girl of all people? "
I genuinely have no more feelings for her, she also did me wrong so why even bother trying to keep her?
" let's do one last troll before I leave…. "
That smartass made all the main questlines NPCs encrypted so only he can change them….
" Sophi? Nah she doesn't really have an effect on the story.. Hmm? Oh this guy I almost forgot "
Veinhelm Drakan, a character that I spent a couple weeks to make just so they literally made him impossible to survive. Every single route for him was death…
Although he deserved that and was meant to be a villain with corrupted personality, shouldn't he at least survive to mid-game phase?
" Tsk… let me give him something, all that work just so he dies? "
* Edit *
[ Spells ]
[ Adding…. { Absolute Counterattack } ]
[ ERORR! ]
[ This character cannot receive divine spell! ]
" ...Pftt "
He actually messed it up by himself? This encryption is only applied by the owner…
" Well, I can just do this "
[ Spell Adjustment ]
[ 'Divine' Spell { Absolute Counterattack } ]
( This spell will completely reflect the damage received to enemy throughout the battle )
[ Spell Adjustments... ]
Hmm.. If I reduce the spell duration then I can change the spell grade to mystic… let me see if I can at least make it stronger…
Dare to challenge a master programmer with a phd?
[ 'Mystic' spell { Absolute counterattack } ] [ New! ]
( For one second the damage received will be reflected ten times to the enemy. Cooldown will be ten minutes after the spell activation )
Hoo? So ten times is the limit? Eleven will make it a Divine spell…
[ New 'Mystic' spell { Absolute Counterattack } was added the character! ]
" Let's go and say our goodbyes to the crew "
***
Walking down the main corridor of the office for the last time, I passed framed screenshots of heroic stand-offs and various scenes, a trophy wall of fan-made figurines posing with deliberately overpowered weapons.
" Nostalgic… "
Some of these weapons were broken at some point, and others that were useless became broken…
There was a table in the break area with a tiny cake—chocolate, my favorite—and a single candle that someone had broken at its base and propped upright with a dollop of napkin.
Nobody was gathered. The place had always been like this… only when He wants to do some social media posting or bragging about the company's success…
"..."
I peered into the conference room and saw the owner—Alan—on a video call, animatedly gesturing with both hands, his mouth wide, cheeks taut.
The glass muted everything, It would be easy to walk past, box up my things, and ghost out as invisibly as I had lived through the project's years.
" Not even a word for your friend? Such a shame… "
I guess that was everything. At least He didn't outright disrespect me publicly. Hmm? Is that who I think it's?
Standing beside him is none other than her…
Her image flickered on the call screen: hair precisely ironed, lips drawn in a line, her focus on the spreadsheet Alan was scrolling through.
I ducked back, skin prickling with the sweat of disgust. It wasn't shame that she'd moved on. It was the gall of pretending like the years together meant nothing—like she could pick up with Alan that easily.
I tossed the break room cake into the garbage, the candle toppling with a pitiful whisper.
I left my access badge on Alan's desk, tossing it with more force than required. The plastic cracked.
" To hell with you and this stupid company "
I closed his door on the way out, barely resisting the urge to slam it.
Nobody in the elevator. Nobody in the parking structure. Only two unread emails from the HR address and a farewell meme in the group chat.
By the time I merged onto the expressway, the office already felt like a fever dream I'd mostly sweated out.
But at the first long red light, my mind snagged on Veinhelm Drakan. The model I'd so painstakingly sculpted, only for Alan to patch him in as the world's most impossible to survive character. I almost wanted to laugh at my own petty sabotage; one second of reflected damage, multiplied tenfold, probably wouldn't even be noticed by the average player. But I knew the codebase, the intricacy of the damage calculation algorithm—this adjustment could produce a fracture, a ripple, down the power scales that, if discovered at the right moment, might irreparably break the balance.
" Mystic? That thing can kill the main characters "
I returned to my apartment, the one I'd chosen for its proximity to the office, and found it colder, airless, with the removed presence of anything that might have once belonged to her.
" I said that I would quit but one last beer wouldn't make harm right? "
I went out to a nearby store to get something that could ease the mood and the bitter feelings I had.
Until..
Baab! Baab!
?!
A car?!
CRASH!
I heard it before I saw it—an impatient, horn-blasting truck. In the margins of consciousness I realized such a huge truck shouldn't be in this neighborhood ,why? From where?, but mostly I thought about the beer sitting like a promise in the bag. The bag crumpled, glass exploded, and something hotter than anger punched through my legs and ribs and then everything went upside down, sideway, inside out.
I tasted the afterimage of asphalt, blood, and something chemical. But I wasn't lying on the street. I was weightless.
There was a digital clarity to the blackness that followed—the way it resolved into patterned static, and then a boot sequence, and then pain.
But not the pain of broken bones. Something else, an excruciating echo of the trucks horn… I heard some hospital beeping… and some weird notification sound…
initialization: [ HP BAR LOADING ]
I blinked and found myself upright, arms splayed across a marble dais, and a ringing in my ear that sounded suspiciously like a UI notification.
I tried to move, but my body responded with an alien lag, limbs articulating as if I was still in the coding interface, dragging sliders by mouse instead of nerves. My fingers found my face first, and what they touched was not my bearded face, but smooth skin of a young man. Around his twenties.
My first impulse was to laugh, sharp and hollow. Of all the ways to die was like this? A crash and some hallucinations of gaming notifications before I die?
" Pftt Hahaha! "
Unlike the stillness that I had in mind, a voice of an old man asked me out of no where…
" Sir ? "
The room rezzed into focus: clouded gothic windows, columns of obsidian, the scent of candle wax and books.
A massive figure loomed at my side—beard like tangled moss, a heavy black robe. He peered at me with the awe of a confused father.
"Are you okay, my lord?" The words vibrated in my head, disturbing my inventory of concussions.
I sat up. It wasn't a hospital room; it was the High Lord's rest chamber from the game, from a slice of terrain I'd coded myself. But none of my menus or dev commands were available—I tried to pull up the UI, got only the faint flicker of a status window:
[ Veinhelm Drakan | LV 33 | HP: ???/??? ]
No—no, no, no. This was a joke, a post-mortem software bug, some delusions… just what the hell is going on?!